


Can you keep a secret?

by sapphicbaby



Series: Secret [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bellamione Cult Discord Game, Bellamione Cult Ilvermorny Cup, Discord: Bellamione Cult, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 19:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20140591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicbaby/pseuds/sapphicbaby
Summary: Hermione was an Unspeakable.Not only that, she was also the Head of the Department of Mysteries.So, she kept lots of secrets.Bellatrix was the most important of them.





	Can you keep a secret?

**Author's Note:**

> Just a romantic one shot to warm our gay hearts.  
I hope you like it!  
(There's a tiny mention of violence, btw, but nothing graphic at all.)  
Sorry for any mistakes, not a native speaker.

Doing one last stroke with her quill on the parchment, she signed her name on what would be the final piece of paperwork she had.

At least, for today.

Being the Head of the Department of Mysteries was a lot more paperwork than, well, mysteries per se. But she wasn’t complaining: she’d still get to see things other would never dream of. She couldn’t say anything about it though, which was kind of a bother at first considering she would always be the talkative know-it-all that loved to share knowledge, even if people didn’t want to know about it. Her friends would always try to make her tell them something, back when she first started on the job as lower-level worker in the department. Not that, at that time, she had seen much: there are things that, even now, as Head, she isn’t allowed to see – only the minister himself has that kind of clearance. But even then, years back, there were a good amount of complicated secrecy oaths that kept her from even telling anything about the floor plan of the department.

Back then, most of the people who worked as Unspeakables were people that had no significant outside connections. No close family, no significant others, no major role in the wizarding community. She only got the job because of who she was, the Gryffindor Golden Girl whose wits had pretty much saved the Wizarding World along with Harry’s bravery and Ron’s… Friendship? Also, lots of luck too.

Now, things were changing. Ever since the war, people had starting valuing more the social relationships, both within the wizarding community and outside of it. Even those who were once social outcasts now had at least one close friend, even if said friend was a Muggle. So, they had to adapt, and Hermione herself helped develop stronger oaths that took care of possible loopholes in the more common ones. That’s how she was able to climb up the department so quickly, and with the retirement of the very old former Head, the job was hers.

Hermione was used to it by now. She could keep secrets. She was great at it, actually. She had to be, because there was no oath keeping her from telling the whole word about that one secret, the secret she wanted to scream so everyone could hear. But she couldn’t. ‘Cause, while the world probably couldn’t care less about her secret, the magical community did. Specially, her friends did. And her friends used to be her whole word, until they weren’t anymore.

Until she met her.

Actually, until she got to know her.

Because they had met, several times before.

The first time had been in King Cross. Hermione was tearfully saying goodbye to her parents, when three blonde people crossed the barrier to Platform 9 ¾. The Malfoys. She was familiar with them, having been bullied by the younger one for four years now. But, after just a moment, a mane of thick, long, raven curls crossed the barrier, cursing loudly about _‘mudbloods and their stupid dogs’. _

And Hermione had never seen the woman, but she knew immediately who she was. Because, even if her tex books didn’t have pictures, there was no mistaking the description of the dark witch who was suspected to be behind Voldemort’s cause, but that no one could prove anything against.

The perfect depiction of darkness. Her presence only could make a room freezing even in the middle of summer. Some people in the Order of Phoenix used to joke that if she had half of the blood thirst Voldemort had, they stood no chance in the war. But it wasn’t really a joke as much as it was the undeniable truth. Not only because she was brilliant and great at everything – dueling, potions, Legilimency, arithmancy, astronomy, you name it – but for she was so bloody charming. Of course, after they had seen how much harm the brains behind the monster could do, everyone was terrified of her, and Hermione was no exception. But, like Hermione, many people also found her fascinating, and, had they ever been the subject of her attention for even a few moments, they would be swooning in no time.

And again, Hermione was no exception.

But the witch never did like the spotlight. She never liked to interact with people if she didn’t have to, and she didn’t enjoy killing. Rumor has it that she had never once used an Unforgivable Curse until her husband, Rodolphus, dared to raise his hand to hit her niece, Nymphadora, when she was twelve. And even then, she made a point of facing trial for her crime. But how could they not forgive her? How could anyone deny her of anything she wanted?

Hermione didn’t know. She certainly couldn’t deny her. She never could.

The dark witch was a strategist. She planned every single step of anything the Death Eaters did. And she was astonishingly good at it.

But, in the end, you can’t control a power hungry madman that thinks he’s so much better than everyone, even if he couldn’t plan a trip to Honeydukes without his beautiful lieutenant whispering in his ear. So, they lost the war, Voldemort was dead and almost every single one of the Death Eaters was a soulless body in Azkaban.

Except for her and the Malfoys. Because she knew exactly what she was doing, she always did, and she always planned ahead. She knew exactly how they should act in order to keep themselves of having any verifiable association with the Dark Lord and his cause. She was wicked smart, and Hermione couldn’t resist it.

That’s the reason why, when, just one day after her Hogwart’s graduation (the three of them went back and finished their education), she received a letter asking to meet, signed with a beautifully crafted and unmistakable B, she kept it despite her friends pleading her to throw the letter on the fireplace and never think about it again. That was back when she could tell them everything. She kept it, but she said she wouldn’t answer.

That was the first of many lies.

And it turns out the older witch was intrigued by the ‘little mudblood’ that was able to bring on the demise of her cause. Even if Tom Riddle’s too high self esteem contributed to that, there was no denying that the girl's guidance was essential for the Order’s victory. Even if McGonagall was just as clever, Hermione was young and fresh-minded. And Bellatrix acknowledged that, the role of the bookworm in the war. She was one of the first ones to do so.

And Hermione couldn’t resist it.

Without her expecting it, the presence that had once made her cold with dread now made her insides warm and her heart thunder in her chest.

So that’s why she lied.

That’s why she kept secrets.

Because when her friends knocked on her door and invited her to hang out in the Burrow, she couldn’t say yes. So, she said she had other plans. They didn’t think much of it. She hadn’t dated anyone for the past seven years after she broke up with Ron.

“She has plans with her books, mate. Leave her be.” Even if he was dating Romilda Vane now, he would still make bitter comments about their break up.

Her former self would take offense on that, and would probably end up crying about it.

But Hermione just laughed.

Because they didn’t know.

She hoped on the fireplace that connected her house to her office – the one only she could use. Taking off her scarf and setting her bag on the couch, she walked softly to the bedroom. The house was quiet, which could only mean one thing.

The same mane of raven curls she saw at King Cross all those years ago was visible underneath the sheets.

Hermione smiled softly, and went to take a shower in the other bathroom as to not wake up the woman. Then, dressed on a silky nightgown, she lifted the blanket and got on the bed, softly spooning the slightly smaller body of the dark witch, who emitted a soft humming noise.

‘Crap, did I just wake her up?’

But the woman just shifted on the bed, facing her, her very pregnant belly touching Hermione’s flat one. Between the two most gifted witches of the age, it didn’t take long to figure out how they could do it. Hermione couldn’t do it, for it was going to raise too many questions. So Bellatrix did it. She only worked a few months every year in the US and it’s not like she was one to give people any explanations about her personal life.

Softly caressing the curls of the love of her life, the Golden Girl sighed.

Hermione could keep secrets.

But she didn’t want to anymore.


End file.
